


Forget Me Not

by Coriana



Category: Ghost Hunt
Genre: Blood-stained Labyrinth, Gen, Horror, Mild Horror, One Shot, Parapsychology, Post-Series, dark scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9525899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriana/pseuds/Coriana
Summary: Sometimes, things just refuse to die.





	

"You never appeared to be one to dredge up the past, Dr. Davis. Have a deeper reason that's none of my business?"

"Are you finished with those types of questions?" Noll asked.

The man across from him shrugged. He was a hypnotist that went under the name of Tobias Wystan, mostly known as Toby within inner circles. And in outer circles, if he could help it. Madoka had sent Toby to Noll during a case that had happened a few years ago.

Although Noll hadn't been particularly fond of him, he was the only one he felt he could contact within his trip back home in England. Toby, who had happened to be visiting England at the moment. He was the only other option, besides Lin, that could accomplish what Noll was looking for. And Noll wanted anyone other than Lin.

Was it because Lin couldn't accomplish the task? No. Noll just didn't want Lin to know that he was being sentimental over an old memory that should have been forgotten a long time ago.

"So what you're looking for is for me to put you into trance, and then hand you the old dollar. Do I have that right?" Toby crossed his legs as he examined the ancient Japanese currency bill that was worn, frayed, and unreadable.

"Yes, I think that will help tap into the memory," Noll said. He considered correcting Toby's American tendencies about calling the Japanese bill a 'dollar', but decided it wasn't worth it.

"I never thought of the possibility that a spirit could block a memory," Toby said as he chewed on his bottom lip. "Like a heavy dose of beta blockers after an incident. What was it you saw when you held the dollar, again?"

"All I could see was the man slipping the currency into his hospital coat," Noll said. "It was unusual. When I tried to go back farther into the memory, it was blanked and black."

He could remember the moment clearly during the case in the mansion. One of the members had handed him the hospital coat, and Noll had caught the rapid fear and visual of putting the note into the inner pocket of the coat. "I see something," was, of course, the only thing he said.

"Even after all this time, you're still curious as to what happened there?" Toby asked. "Mai has given me details about that particular case. Pretty gruesome to remember."

It was true; Noll was not someone who was frivolous with such past events. To be bogged down by every memory relived wasn't something that interested him. He allowed old problems to drown and die. Maybe it was the parapsychology standpoint that he was interested in – spirits that could block memories? – or, perhaps, it just annoyed him that he might have been able to figure out the case faster if the spirit had just shared a little more information.

"Well, you ready?" Toby said.

Noll sighed, allowing his normal, rational mind to remind himself that this was ridiculous. But it also rationalized that he had gone this far, been through this much, that it would be a waste not to finish it.

He allowed Toby to induce the trance, letting himself ease his mind and numb his limbs. He felt when Toby tucked the currency into his hand. He felt the surge of panic and fear from the original writer. But this time, Noll slipped into the buried secrets of another life.

 

 

No one asked questions. Half of your responsibility when you were on the hospital staff was to deflect concern and inquiries about patients who had disappeared. Perhaps suspicion was unavoidable, even within your own self.

The truth was that Mr. Miyama randomly selected individuals to be sent to hospitals or doctors that specialized in the patient's health ailments. It was kept quiet as to not cause jealousy and attempts to bother Mr. Miyama so they could also be brought into his good charity.

I always reckoned Mr. Miyama did such things because he would never be able to become fully recovered, and possibly desired to see it happen to others. Although he was a cold, distant man that appeared to be mentally unstable, his philanthropy was too grand to deny he must also have a good, kind side to him

I suppose the best way to describe Mr. Miyama would be 'generously ruthless'. The only problem was you never knew what side you would happen upon.

Or which side was the real him.

I could ignore it. I would have ignored it all until he chose someone I couldn't ignore. Couldn't pretend I didn't notice their disappearance. It all happened so fast – she told me that Mr. Miyama wanted to send her to a better hospital, the next day, before I had even awoken, she was gone.

Maybe she never should have told me, but how could she not? It wasn't like I wouldn't have guessed.

This time, I was on the other end of the line. My questions were met with blank, monotone stares as I asked which hospitals, or doctors, or lands she had been sent to. No one even seemed to remember her. In addition, all of her files which had ever been documented were now missing.

They could all pretend that she hadn't existed, for whatever their reasons. But I knew the truth. She was my damn little sister. They couldn't take her away from me.

 

 

The infamous mountain villa was even grander than I had anticipated. I've heard its nice style had already been remodeled a few times previously. I remembered when the out-of-town staff had come to work on the building. If I recalled correctly, a few had ended up in the hospital for a short while due to some mysterious trauma.

No one made contact with Mr. Miyama unless he made contact with them first. I knew I was breaking many rules, but Kanae would be so scared, being sent away alone.

Mr. Miyama lived in his distant villa, while his own wife lived in the townhouse. His crazy son lived with him as well. Was he the reason why Mr. Miyama didn't want anyone to visit the house, for his embarrassment towards his own son who wanted him dead?

My only hope now was for Mr. Miyama to give me the name of the hospital directly. The only reason I worked at the hospital was so I could hold Kanae's hand as she fell asleep.

Mr. Miyama would have to understand. Once I explained the situation, he would understand. He had to.

It was the late evening hours. I had been making my way here since the morning, but walking on foot was no easy task. I wouldn't allow my exhaustion to stop me.

I had just gone to knock when the door opened. The man who peered out at me was tall and rigid. His eyes were sunken, and his lips pulled taut over his teeth.

"Mr. Miyama accepts no visitors," the man said thickly. Japanese must not have been his native tongue.

"My name is Banri Seigo. I must speak to Mr. Miyama." When the man went to shut the door in my face, I panicked. "No, please! I must ask him about the girl from yesterday and what hospital he sent her to!"

"Hold on," another voice said, oddly familiar yet clearer than the first. "Let him in."

I stepped into the foyer, immediately dazzled by the amount of wealth. The second man looked nearly identical to the first – could they be twins? – And yet seemed to have fuller-fledged features and was better with Japanese. They were clearly foreign. Could they possibly be the two main servants I heard stories about from the others in the hospital staff? Had Mr. Miyama hired them when he had been on his travels?

"I apologize, Mr. Miyama is currently seeing to important business. Would you care for me to leave you a time in his schedule for you to meet with him?"

"No, you must understand," I said, "It will only take a few moments to speak to him, and I'll be on my way."

He looked at me strangely, seemingly to size me up. He licked his non-existent lips and said, "Please, come this way."

 

 

I had never met Mr. Miyama. I had never seen a picture of him, or had him described to me.

He was… meeker than I had imagined in my head. It shouldn't have surprised me. He was truly a man of his illness. He was frail and pallid, hunched over and walked with a totter.

I tried not to view him as pathetic, because of all the good deeds he had done in his life, and yet there was something in my gut that stirred when I looked at him. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was fear.

"I'm sorry that happened to your sister," Miyama said, his voice timid and shaky. It didn't sound like he really cared at all. "But you should be happy for her, I've sent her to someplace where she can become well."

"I understand," I said, "But I need to leave and go be with her. I'm her only family left."

"Send away my hospital staff," Miyama mumbled to himself.

Irritation prickled against my spine. "Please, sir. I only want the name of the hospital you sent her to."

Miyama sat in an armchair beside his fire. He kept his knees together and his hands in his lap. He fidgeted and twitched even as he sat still. He was wearing a worn dressing gown, and it made me grim to see that his 'important business' was apparently getting ready for his bath.

"Mr. Miyama," I continued, my voice hoarse, "I know you like to keep these things under wraps, but I would never divulge any information to anyone. I will leave this area as soon as you tell me where she was sent to."

"Mhhh," Miyama said, staring at me with bulging eyes.

It was hard to envision that he was the one that was either the saint, or the devil.

My chest constricted, which helped to keep me from yelling at this man. Mentally unstable didn't seem to cover his field anymore.

"Please," I said, exasperated.

"There is no hospital name," he said, his eyes dropped to stare at the floor.

"What?"

"She wasn't sent anywhere."

In my heated state I hadn't thought clearly as to what my actions might cause. I lurched from my chair, sending it falling to the ground. I wouldn't have slapped or harmed the man; I had only wanted to scare him.

Miyama squeaked and brought his knees up.

"Tell me where she is, old man…!"

Within seconds, he brought his legs back down to the floor in a snap, and stood up even faster. Even though I was taller than he was, I felt towered over. I shrank back and almost fell over.

"Your sister," he said. His tone was full of heated force. The strength caught me off guard. The loud, boldly spoken words left me shaken when compared to his originally hesitant ones.

He looked down at me. His spiteful glare made my breath stop. He stomped across the room, like a child throwing a tantrum. It was like he had become possessed.

"She's dead," he finally finished.

The words rang, but they couldn't hit my heart. My mind would not register the sentence.

"I –" but no words came. I couldn't tell if I was livid, or terrified.

"I hate conversation," Miyama said, "which is why I don't want to be disturbed. But since you're here, let's chat. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Trembling, I faltered backwards even more. I tripped over my fallen chair and landed hard on my back, all the wind gushing out of me. The world spun for a moment, and tears stung my eyes.

"Did you have questions?" Miyama said, impatience evident in his vocal tone, "I have already given you much of my time."

"Did you kill her…?" I said. I couldn't find the strength or air to back my voice, and it came out weak and shivering.

"Well, no, I didn't kill her."

I could feel them. The weight of their presence seemed to fracture my back and cripple my knees. Were their hands wrapped around my throat, or could I no longer breathe? Were their fingers plucking out my eyes, or was I going blind?

Their hands grabbed my arms, hoisting me up and setting me back on my now upright chair. Their strange, thick and bony hands held onto my shoulders, gripping until it hurt.

Miyama laughed, and it was ugly. He moved in close, so my whole vision could only see his smiling face.

"Tell me," he said, "Are you afraid?"

I didn't answer.

"Are you afraid to die?"

My heart quivered.

"No," I said, but my lip trembled. "I'm not afraid."

"Good boy," he said, patting me on the cheek. "Even if you are lying to me. You're brave, and I admire that. If only I had been as brave as you are, maybe it would have been easier to live a life that I knew would end all too soon. But let me tell you something-" he leaned in close to my ear, "-your sister was not so brave."

"You… monster..."

"Maybe I am now," he said, softly, "but I was once as innocent as your sister. I used to believe that I could be saved. I used to pray that I would be made whole. But there was a man who showed me no one but I could save myself. This man's name was Urado."

He said the name with allure and reverence. "And he's still with me even to this day."

"Urado," I repeated, fumbling over the words. How could a person be this malicious, and be able to teach another their ways. Only the devil themselves.

"Oh, I have an idea…" the monster said, still smiling. "Would you like to see your sister?"

My first response was retching, vomit smearing the front of my clothing. I was pulled from the chair and shoved and pushed towards the direction that Miyama was walking. His pose was straight and steady. How could this be the same man from earlier?

I tried to scream for help as I was jerked and twisted in the henchmen's grip – there had to be somebody – someone else had to live here. Someone else had to know. Someone –

But nobody came.

Miyama opened the door.

The room would have looked like the hospital bathrooms. Cold and sterile. This particular scene, however, was far from clean. The surgical metal table held the remains of my deceased sister, Kanae, severed and drained. The porcelain bathtub was quarter filled with a dark maroon liquid, as still as a silk tablecloth. The ceramic tile was stained with bloody footsteps, smears, and handprints.

The smell of my little sister's blood – once held by a young woman that had dreams, feelings, hopes, and tears – was now embodied by the smell of iron.

"This is where he taught me this craft," Miyama was saying to me, "because what is more valuable to a human than their blood? Their life essence in liquid form? How could I, frail and weak and dying, not be revived by bathing in the pure quintessence of a human being?

"And my fellow men, who followed me and my beliefs, take the remains. They feast on the flesh that once carried a soul, a vessel of pure, physical strength. By doing this, they, too, can live along with me forever."

I felt the hands tighten on my shoulders. Now, I could see bite marks and lacerations marring my sister's skin.

I screamed. Until my lungs held no air and my soul couldn't make a sound. On the edge of the bathtub, I thought I saw something. A figure. A shadowy black demon. Something that shouldn't exist in this world.

With a turn, I tore from the hands of the monsters, running fast in the direction that we came. I wouldn't let my feet stop.

In my ear, I heard Miyama say…

"Let him run. He can't get very far."

 

 

I didn't know where I was besides that I was still in this cursed, blood-soaked house. I didn't dare try yell for help in fear they would know where I was. Every window I tried was locked too tight, and any effort to break through was futile. The glass bounced back like rubber.

Now, I sat in the corner of a lonely room, only listening to my heart and the shadows of footsteps in my mind.

Perhaps it was my training as a medical assistant that I had the wherewithal to pull a bill from my pants pocket. In any face of a crisis, there still had to be a bubble of comprehension within you so you could react and act.

From my coat, I pulled out my pencil.

Carefully I sketched across the top of the bill: Those who came to this place have all died. Heard they were killed by Urado. Run away.

When the people come searching for the missing persons, I hoped that this allowed them to come closer to finding their culprit. I hoped this as I tucked the letter into the deep inner pocket of my coat. The moment felt heavy and laced with an emotion beyond fear. An emotion, a feeling, that didn't have a name yet.

I want to forget all of this.

I shrugged off the coat and shoved it into the corner under the staircase.

Please, let someone find this.

But when I thought about it, no one would come looking for me, either.

I can hear their footsteps.

 

 

Noll woke up.

But something was wrong. Toby wasn't present. This wasn't the hotel room. It was too dark to see anything. There was a voice echoing in his ears.

"Don't look at me," said the voice.

Noll turned to see the bathroom where the deadly deeds were performed. It was illuminated in a sick, peachy-colored light. The man sitting besides the bathtub rocked back and forth, his knees pulled to his chest. A full-length mirror stood behind him, gleaming in the washed-out light. The mirror was something Noll didn't remember from anytime he had seen this room. Perhaps it had been an item that had been removed early on.

"Save me," Miyama whispered. "It hurts."

The man that was reflected in the mirror was Miyama, standing with his arms folded and smiling down upon himself.

"Don't look at me… I'm scared… I want to die," the real Miyama said.

The reflection of Miyama smiled wider. "But I don't."

Noll's heart thudded heavily in his ears, as time seemed to go gratingly slow. So which was it? his thoughts whispered to him. Was Kaneyuki truly a madman? Or had he been possessed?

When Noll decided he had had enough of the scene, Urado looked up at him through the reflection of the mirror. His eyes connected with Noll's.

"I don't want to die."

 

 

Noll opened his eyes, breathing in the sounds and lights, hearing the colors, and feeling the surroundings of the room.

He blinked, and it returned to normal.

"Noll?" Toby said, waving his hand in front of him. He held a notebook in his lap. "How many fingers am I holding up? How do you feel?"

Besides feeling the burning image of Urado's smile reflected on the back of his eyelids, he felt fine.

Alive, yet again.

He repositioned himself in the chair, having stooped and slumped from his original posture. He popped a crick in his neck and stretched out his arms. He realized he felt remarkably sore.

"You disconnected so quickly," Toby said, "that you startled me." He was holding the currency note in his hand. "You dropped it at one point… do you want it back?"

He reached his hand out to give it back to Noll, who made no move to take it.

"I'm done with it," he said. "You can burn it."

"It will be done," Toby said, examining the fraying bill. "In the meantime, is there anything you want to talk about?"

Noll was silent long enough that Toby feared he'd fallen back into a trance.

"I'm tired," Noll finally said. "And whatever happened is in the past, and doesn't need to be rehashed."

Toby shrugged. "You're paying me, so… suit yourself."

"And Toby…" Noll said.

"Yes?"

"Call Lin for me, will you?"


End file.
